~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 31~
“How is he?”
Spike kissed Willow on her forehead, pressing his lips against her for a few seconds as he took in her scent.
“Hungry,” he finally replied. “And oddly cordial about it.”
“Well that’s good, right. I mean, if he’s polite about it maybe he’s not all about the blood and the kill.” She had such a hopeful look on her face that Spike hated to disappoint.
“Given half a chance, he’ll bite any one of you in a heartbeat. Don’t be fooled.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Anything he knows about you, he’ll use to hurt you. Remember that.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “So...how are you?”
“I’m not sure. It’s bloody strange. One minute I’m normal...” Off her look he growled, “Don’t say it, Red. One minute I’m normal, and the next I feel this connection to someone, a pulling on my demon that’s new and I want to explore it. But I don’t.”
She understood. It was like magic when she learned to cast a new spell or discovered a better practical application. Once she would have jumped at the opportunity for something new. Now she was cautious, afraid of falling into old patterns of behavior. Eating people probably was one of those things Spike did not want to fall back on.
She slipped up behind him and pushed him to sit on her bed. Small hands massaged his shoulders. “You’re tense.” She brushed the back of his neck with a light kiss, smiling as he groaned. “You need to relax. Let’s take a bath.”
“No hot water, pet,” he mumbled.
“Hey, all-powerful Wicca here. I think I can create a little heat.”
He pulled her into his lap, kissing her soundly. “A lot of heat in my experience.”
“Then get up and get naked, vampire, while I make with the magic.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
KP duty was no fun and tin cans sucked and Cordelia was sure that the demon that created can openers was getting a healthy dose of ya-yas at the seer’s expense. After opening the seventh one, Cordelia’s hand was starting to cramp where the metal dug into her skin. She worked out and was in pretty good shape despite recently activities, but no one ever really did hand exercises, so the pain as she twisted the oddly shaped hunk of metal got to be irritating.
Sighing, she tossed it to the counter and glared at Amy. “Can’t you just open them? You know, call on the dark arts and save our hands from a lifetime of arthritis.”
Amy didn’t bother replying. Cordelia was someone she had learned to ignore many years ago, and although the girl was nowhere near as vapid as she had been in Sunnydale, she had her moments.
Both women gasped and jumped as a stampede of kids came racing through the kitchen of the motel’s coffee shop. Amy stopped the fourth critter as it tried to fly past her.
“Hey, not in the kitchen,” she said firmly as she redirected him and the others back into the dining area. They marched on, sullen for the moment, but were soon screeching and laughing again.
“Wow, you handled them pretty well.”
Amy shrugged and took out a pot for the peas. “They’re good kids, really.”
Good kids. She did not expand on that. They were exceptional kids, considering. She knew what it was like to have no one and had not dealt with it as well.
The door to the kitchen opened and Amy was about to put on her stern face when she noticed the shock of blonde hair.
“Oh, hey,” she greeted.
Spike nodded. “Hey, yourself.”
Cordy turned as he was passing her, getting a whiff of freshly cleaned Spike. “Hey,” she breathed. “Uh ... Where’s Willow?” Spinning to face the counter, she started opening the huge can of chili.
“In her room, napping.” He stretched, showing a creamy expanse of his hard stomach. “We’re all a bit knackered, I’d wager.”
“Well, why aren’t you asleep?” she asked while struggling with the can. He leaned around her and took it from her.
“Let me, pet,” he purred and she had the vague impression that he was flirting with her. Not one to reject a man’s assistance, she gladly gave up on her task. Within seconds it was open and, taking a quick sniff, he gave it back to her, largely certain he wanted nothing more to do with cooking for the tots. “And it’s still dark out. Not bedtime for me, is it?”
She poured the contents into another pot provided by the now silent and totally observant Amy.
“No, Angel’s the one that’s confused when you think about it. But it took a year of badgering to get him up before noon.”
Spike just bet it did. There had once been a time when he and Angelus slept in very late, often annoying the girls into leaving without them, just so they could play alone.
“Captain Caveman gave you kitchen detail then?”
She laughed. “I’d never volunteer. He accosted me and Amy while we were trying to find a clean room.”
“Angelus was always good at the accosting,” he replied distractedly.
“And thank you for the visual.” She pulled a face, stirring the chili as she tried to not let that image affect her breathing.
He pushed up against her, his chest pressing into her back. “You know me, luv. Always aiming to please, yeah?”
Her heart was leaping in her chest and she wanted to crush it into submission, traitorous organ that it was. Instead she twisted around, her nipples pebbling as she brushed against him, and whispered in his ear. “You should aim lower.”
Amy watched it all, detached and fascinated, as she dropped chunks of thick biscuit batter onto the cookie sheets. She got the impression that Spike and Willow were an item and was surprised at what was playing out before her.
As if just remembering the witch’s presence, Cordy slipped to the side, ending the game ... for now. If she was to examine her motives for coming on to Spike, she would not find any one thing that clearly stood out starkly. Many reasons, including the obvious, were to blame, if blame was accurate. Instead she changed tactics.
“So did you come here for a reason or just to harass the cooks?”
“Actually...” he strode to the refrigerator and snatched what he wanted from inside. “I came for this.” She rolled her eyes at his theatrics. “Unless you want to donate again?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I won’t do it.”
The debate had been ongoing for the last thirty minutes. Angel had heated up blood for his new childe. Said childe refused to even try it. He sniffed the cooling liquid distastefully.
“It’s a sacrilege, Angel.”
Angel understood exactly how Wesley felt. When Spike had been forced to bag it, there was a different set of circumstances and he had adjusted quickly. Pain had always been a motivator for that boy.
But Wesley had nothing to deter his demon, which was how Angel felt as times. The soul did not seem like enough of a reason to deny his nature wholly and completely. However, most days he was just fine. Today was a most day.
“You’ll eat it when you get hungry enough.”
Wesley stared at his sire before answering. “Or I shall get loose and have a feast of feasts. Do you think I can persuade Spike to join me in that?”
“Heh, Spike has discovered a way to have his cake and eat it too...literally.” Angel frowned, thinking it had to be the poetry.
“Hmm, perhaps big brother won’t mind schooling me.”
Tired of the banter, knowing that eventually Wesley would get the best of him verbally, he put something on the table, something that intrigued the fledgling into quiet contemplation.
“Drink from me.”
As a watcher, Wesley understood certain things about the sire/childe relationship that a fledgling would normally be unaware of. The ignorance and total dependency of the new demon allowed for easier manipulation. Wesley stopped himself before smiling, and put on a duly serious face while considering his options. This feeding from Angel would make him more dependent on the older vampire, on his sire, and while intellectually he rebelled at the thought, demonically he was all gung-ho. Concentrating fiercely to avoid the inclination to salivate, he nodded, eyes wide as his sire bared his neck to him.
Bones shifted, a slightly painful, but not entirely unpleasant sensation, and he wore the face of his demon. “How? I’m not sure where...”
“Just slide you fangs into the vein, Wes.”
Wesley nodded again. “That easy?”
“Well...” Angel smirked at him. “If you tear my skin, I’ll tear yours.”
Wesley did grinned now, something in that statement holding promise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There would never be a Cordelia Chase Daycare for the Orphan’s of the Apocalypse. She just did not enjoy whining and screaming as much as the next person. But they had been fed and were now all Amy’s responsibility.
Pleased that her job for the day was done, Cordy quietly slipped into the room she selected for herself, ready to get some sleep in a real bed. Angel had appropriated the bedroom in the motorhome and there just hadn’t been a good time to confront him about that yet. She was particularly proud of the chicken-shit way that she had avoided seeing Wesley all day.
Showering quickly, she came out of the bathroom, shivering from the cold water, wrapped in a well worn white towel that barely covered her parts. Something moved in the corner and she leaped to the bed, a shriek rising in her throat as the shadows dissolved into substance.
“What are you DOING in here?” she whispered harshly, still feeling the need to scream.
He walked toward her, slunk perhaps was more accurate, and wrapped his arms around her waist as she stood on the bed, burying his face in her scent.
“We got interrupted, pet.”
Her mind flashed back to tempting images of his hands roaming her body. “So this is my private reading?” she asked as she ran her hands through his blonde locks.
“Very private.”
“What about Willow?” she panted, placing one hand on his shoulder for support.
“Sleeping and sated,” he purred, done waiting. Tugging on the towel, his lips fell on her cooled flesh. It was a surprising sensation, to feel the blood rushing under the skin of someone that was as cool as he.
“No hot water.” He mouthed against her skin in explanation to himself, and pulled her down from high, to lie on the bed.
As wrong as she knew this was she did not stop him as he kissed her, deeply, exploring her. Her hands slipped under his shirt to find him silky and hard, muscles rippling efficiently under that pale skin.
Tearing away to breathe, gasped against his lips, “You’re making me plenty warm.”
“I am at that.” He smiled and stood, stepping away to look at her. She was a well-endowed girl and took great care of what God gave her. His head tilted, as it was wont to do when the demon started thinking, and he wondered how she would look if eternally blessed.
His fangs started to itch as she ran her finger over a thin scratch from their previous games. He let them descend and did not fight the change, wanting her reaction.
When she only stared, waiting, a hint of impatience creeping into her eyes, he quickly undressed and climbed over her, pinning her to the bed easily. He scraped a fang across her breast, bringing up a line of blood as she cried out, and he picked up where he left off the other day.
“What will you say, once withered heart of mine*...” He ran the flat of his tongue along the red spill, tasting pent up desire and a desperate kind of need. This girl wanted someone to want her.
“What will you say tonight, poor soul forlorn...” She wiggled nicely for him as he spoke in deep tones against her flesh, her soft sigh becoming more with each word.
“To her – all sweetness, light – whose glance divine...” Panting, she arched as his fingers slid along her slit, playing with the soft wet heat he found there before penetrating her easily.
“Suddenly bloomed you back to life, reborn?” She cried out as his fangs sunk into her thigh, her eyes rolling back in her head as she strained, for just a few seconds, not to succumb to the delicious pull of his feeding. But it only lasted an instant before she gave in, rotating her hips against his fingers to the rhythm of his drinking.
The second verse would have to wait.
~Part: 32~
Resistance is futile.
That phrase kept playing in his head, like a skipping phonograph record, complete with the static popping sounds. He had sat through a movie night with Doyle and Cordelia once. There was something about spaceships and Borg and assimilation. It was all very confusing and loud and he wanted to leave, but stayed because it seemed to make them happy. Doyle was convinced that his redemption lied not only in his helping people, but in him becoming infused in the lives of the humans he sought to save. Angel was still unsure how watching movies fit into his friend’s view of things, but it was easier to go along with it.
He snuggled in closer, liking the feel as his chest pressed against the smooth long back. His mouth rested against the pale neck where Wesley's hair lay against his skin like spun silk, smiling when a soft sigh came from his childe.
Christ, I’ve done this again.
“You know he wanted this from you for years. I wanted this, I suppose.” Wesley spoke softly, no trace of the demon that lurked within in that soothing voice of his.
“I know,” Angel replied while stroking his arm lightly.
“Why did you never … acquiesce?” he asked, shivering from his sire’s touch, but not moving to stop him, somehow knowing that he couldn’t.
Angel did not answer him, but he knew exactly why he kept his distance from the ex-watcher. It was all tangled up with the reasons he left Buffy and rebuked Spike, and boiled down to him being afraid for his soul. Once he determined that he would never lose it again things were different between him and Wesley and it was too late.
“Doesn’t matter now,” he finally replied, wanting to go back to sleep.
Wesley started to ask another question, but was shushed quickly while
Angel wedged his legs between Wesley’s long ones and lifted one in the
air to slip his hard cock inside. When dealing with a restless William
this method had been tried and true and he hoped it worked for his newest
inquisitive fledgling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Upon waking, Cordelia was immediately aware of two things; she was incredibly thirsty and there was a vampire in her bed.
Spike lay half across her, using her breast as a pillow. She slipped from under him and climbed out of the bed, trying to recall exactly what had happened. Her brain was fuzzy and normally when she felt like this she just turned over and went back to sleep, but with the not-so-evil undead lounging peacefully she needed to think.
First in her mind was what the hell had she been thinking, doing those things with Spike. He was dating Willow, if you could call it that. And from the sound of things he and Angel were up to a lot of vampire games as well.
She padded nude to the bathroom and closed the door quietly before turning on a light. There was a small window over the toilet that let in a little sunlight, but it was not enough to actually brighten the dim room. Turning on the faucet, she bent over and drank straight from the tap until she was feeling better.
When she straightened up, the mirror was there, reflecting her image back to her. The paleness she understood, and figured it would go away shortly. Examining her body, she was relieved to see no bites on her neck. The weather was warm and she did not want to have to wear something that would hide a mark there, but there was one on her right breast and thigh. Both were sore to the touch, but that same caress also radiated a tingle of pleasure that started at the wounds but ended in her sex.
God.
She closed her eyes, remembering some of what they had done, his voice smooth and sweet, like fine chocolate, lulling her as he whispered words of impossible beauty and passion and took his fill of her. She did not think that they had actually had sex, aside from his talented fingers bringing her off several times, but he did fuck her – her mind, her soul and her senses. And she would do it again. She absolutely knew it.
Having had enough if her self-examination, she went to the tiny window and opened it, letting in some fresh, if warm, air. The sun was on the other side of the building, which faced west, but the shadows casts by the trees were not so very long as for it to be close to dusk. There was time for more sleep so she decided against a shower. The cold water would make going back for a nap impossible.
Decision made, she opened the door and made her way back to the bed only to face another decision. Waking Spike or letting him sleep. She did not deny that she enjoyed his attention and felt completely safe with him, but he was Willow’s … and Angel’s … and what would happen if they were found together, naked, which she was sure he was underneath that sheet.
“Are you going to stand there staring for the rest of the day, or come back to bed?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but he was facing away from her. “What about Willow?”
That made him turn around and look at her. It was intense and off-putting, but she endured it while waiting for him to reply.
“I’ll go,” he said as he tossed the covers off of him casually and stood to stretch. “She’s still sleep and I can slip in unnoticed. That, or stay with Angel.”
She frowned, realizing just how many options Spike had. “It’s really nothing to you.”
He froze for a second just as he was putting his shirt over his head, then finished, unmindful of his unruly curls. “What? This?” He stared at her.
“I don’t know, but you come from her bed to me and then just go back and I don’t get it.”
“I fed. You bloody got off on it,” he told her plainly. In truth, he was not sure why he was drawn to her, but he was. He felt the need to protect her, be around her, and as unsettling as that was, he still allowed it instead of fighting it.
She had put on a pair of panties and a T-shirt while he dressed, and was ready to climb back into the bed for a week. “That’s pretty rude, Spike.”
“I know. I gotta go.” He leered at her, making her feel like she was undressed all over again. “Keep it hot for me, yeah?” And then he was gone, the door closing behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He went to Angel. The enticing scent of sex and blood as he approached his Sire’s room pulled on his demon, making it lurch repeatedly for control.
The door was locked when he tried the knob and he sighed, breaking the tumblers effortlessly with a flick of his wrist. Pushing inward, he was greeting by brilliant blue eyes watching him with an equal mixture of curiosity and wariness.
Undressing quickly, Spike ignored him, other than to wink at him, but Wesley was not to be put off so easily.
“How was she?”
Spike turned to him, suppressing a grin. He remembered being exactly this young and devious. “Who?”
“Cordy. Did you fuck her?” He extracted himself from Angel’s arms so that he could lean up on his elbow, keenly interested, while Spike dug around in his coat for a cigarette.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied, annoyed that his smokes were not where he wanted them to be and suddenly sure that they were in the room he shared with Willow.
“Terrible shame,” Wesley replied. “Those long, tan legs wrapped around your back while you plow into her heat. I’m sure it’s nothing short of amazing.”
Spike faced him again, walking toward the bed, amused as his new sibling’s eyes drifted down to his cock which was semi-hard just because of the smells in the room. “Never been there yourself, I take it?”
“Unfortunately, no. We had a … thing when I first met her. When I was human. I suppose I did not know what to do with her then,” he sighed, licking his lips as his gazed traveled up Spike’s fine form.
The blonde waited until their eyes locked. “And you do now?”
Wesley laughed. “Oh yes, I think I do, actually.”
Spike knew precisely what Wesley wanted to do to her, and slipped into the bed on the other side of Wesley. There was no room behind Angel. “Well, see to it that you don’t.” he told him while Wesley shifted around to face him.
“Why? You’ve got the delightful Willow Rosenberg at your beck and call. And Angel.” He ran his hand down Spike’s hip, feeling how hard and toned he was. “Don’t you think you’re being greedy?”
Spike grinned and grabbed Wesley’s hand, stopping the motion. “Vampire, pet. Supposed to be greedy.” He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on a finger while he kept his eyes on the younger demon’s, truly liking the creature and thinking it would be a shame to see this inhibition disappear when the soul took over again.
“Spike,” he panted while his pupils dilated predictably and Spike could taste the want in the air.
Heaving a sigh, Spike stopped and placed a kiss on Wesley’s forehead. “You, little brother, I don’t play with unless Daddy says I can.”
Using a considerable amount of willpower he turned over and settled in to sleep the rest of the day away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The corridor was unfamiliar to her, dark and uninviting, but she trudged on almost against her will and certainly against her better judgment.
Glancing down she noticed her clothing, a white flowing cotton nightgown that exposed a lot of breast, but was floor length and had not split on the side. Consequently, her normally long stride was shortened, thwarted by the fabric itself, so that she felt more like she was shuffling.
A weird idea about being a geisha crossed her mind, but she did not have time to explore it because a strange noise pulled her from those musings. It was not entirely foreign to her, not like this place. She was certain she knew what the grunting and moaning were all about, just not who was having all the fun.
She followed the sound, led there by curiosity as well as something more primal that she did not understand, until she reached a door. Behind it was the answer, to why she was here and so much more/. She just had to be brave and go through it.
Taking a deep breath she turned the old-fashioned knob, the squeak of the hinges announcing her presence to the occupants, even if other, more telling things, already had.
Still as stone, her eyes widened at the site before her. Angelus, she was certain it was him, hovered over Spike, only his hair was darker and long. The younger vampire’s legs rested on the other’s shoulders as Angelus stopped mid-thrust to look at her. Spike turned lazy, lust-filled eyes on her as well, a small smirk on his lips.
It was Angelus who spoke, his tone sweet, yet condescending. “There you are, Princess. We thought you left us for good this time.”
Cordelia woke with a start, sweat covering her body. She sat up, glancing around, noting that it was not that warm, and brought a shaking hand to wipe at the salty liquid trailing along her hairline. She was cool, remarkably so, and wondered about that as she recalled the dream.
Angelus, Spike or William she supposed, and them thinking she was a princess. She shook her head, confused and clutching the sheet to her.
“What the fuck?”
~Part: 33~
Too many smells accosted Angel’s senses as he woke, like wandering through the smoky fog of an opium den, making it difficult for him to differentiate between them all in his early evening haze. Outside the sun was retreated, tired after beating down its golden fury on the indifferent landscape. His demon was still sleepy, needing blood more than usual from feeding Wesley the night before.
Quickly, closing his eyes, he separated one of the scents; blood. Family. Childe. Strong. Spike.
Not one to panic, having woken to the alluring scent of the blood before, he cracked open one eye and peeked at them. Wesley, while sleeping, had latched onto Spike’s wrist and was nursing from it, sucking periodically. Angel shook his head as he watched his lazy childe snooze through it all, looking like he was lazing on a moonlit beach, completely unaware.
“Wanna get your boy off me, Angelus?” Spike asked, his tone slightly sardonic, as he lay with his eyes shut.
Well, maybe not completely unaware.
“Oh, yeah.” He pulled Wesley back to him, ignoring Spike’s grimace as the fangs slid out of him and tore his skin.
The blond brought the bleeding wrist to his mouth, but was stopped, stunned when Angel took his arm in a firm grip and began to lick the blood away, his tongue and lips and comforting as they were distracting. Spike relaxed, closed his eyes again, and allowed the coddling for a minute before pulling away and climbing out of the bed.
Angel watched, fascinated by the lean play of muscles beneath that creamy skin. Spike was amazingly strong now. Much more so than when they were playing at being enemies back in Sunnydale. “Where are you going?” Angel asked, shifting from under the sheet and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Left my smokes in my room.” He was putting his jeans on, his back to his sire.
Angel was disheartened that Spike did not consider this his room as well. It was as if the progress they had made in the past weeks was gone and they were back to being almost strangers.
“Are you angry with me?”
“Nooo, I’m niccing.” He still had not turned around as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Now he did turn, his eyes like ice. “I want a bloody fag, Angel. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Spike’s voice had taken on the hoarse whine that Angel remembered so well. It was a precursor to fits of rage and psychotic demonstrations of that rage. He stood, knowing that had to intervene before his childe did something they both would regret later.
“You are.” Stalking the short distance to the other vampire, Angel took him by the back of his neck and drew him in close, their lips almost touching. “I need you, Spike. Don’t ever think I don’t, understand?”
Angel nodded, answering for his childe, until Spike joined in and then their mouths met in mutually frantic need as each tried to devour the other.
“This is rather like Cinemax at night.”
Startled, they both turned to see Wesley smiling rather widely. Spike scoffed. “Are you daft? We are so much better than Cinemax.”
~~~*~~~
“Are you going to keep him locked up in here forever?” Spike asked. Wesley was in the shower. “It’s pretty obvious that they aren’t going to find that soddin’ orb.”
“I can’t let him roam free and if people get used to him, they’ll let down their guard.”
Spike did not want to agree with Angel, but he knew that he was right. Groaning from the pain of admitting to it himself he plopped down on the bed and stretched out.
“I’ve already got one out of control childe running around.”
Spike let his head loll to the side so he could see Angel. “Are you referring to me?” he grinned.
“What are you doing with her, Spike? You have Willow, who may love you, and you're messing around with Cordy.”
A frown worked its way over his features. He had hoped that this conversation would not happen, especially since his sire had not brought it up as soon as he woke. Spike knew that Angel smelled the evidence of his activities and was impressed that he waited this long to meddle.
“I don’t know. I just feel like being around her sometimes, like she’s fragile and needs me. It’s stupid.” If he did not get a cigarette soon, he thought he might murder someone.
“And what are you going to tell Willow?”
“Nothing. And neither will you … or your boy. Make that clear to him.”
“You’ll hurt her. Both of them.”
Spike stood and slipped his feet into his boots without tying the laces and stomped away in silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Starving was relative, she knew this, but right now she felt like she had not eaten in days and would collapse if she didn’t get something in her empty, growling belly soon. Cordelia apparently had the same idea for they both met at the restaurant, looking determined and hungry.
“Hey Cordy,” Willow greeted her friend cheerfully. She had gotten a good night’s sleep and felt refreshed, if in need of food fast.
“Willow. Hey.” Cordelia had that deer caught in the headlights look, but recovered quickly when she realized the redhead must not know about her and Spike. “I’m uh, starving. What’s to eat?”
“Oh,” Willow said looking through the shelves. “We could make pancakes, but I sooo don’t want anymore of those.”
The seer searched as well. “Look, some canned tomatoes and canned chicken. If there’s some pasta we can make something decent. Almost like things are … well like thing didn’t suck and the world didn’t end and we aren’t fodder for smooth-talking demons.”
Willow raised her eyebrows questioningly, but Cordelia had turned away, wincing and biting her bottom lip as she reached for a large saucepan.
“Do you really know how to cook this?” Willow asked after they had gotten all the ingredients that were available that the ex-cheerleader said were needed.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I do.” At Willow’s unimpressed look she rolled her eyes and added, “I learned to cook soon after moving to L.A.” She opened the cans of chicken as she spoke and poured the water off. “My parents didn’t have anything left to give me. My college money was seized, everything. I just had some of my clothes and my car which was in my name, and I was already 18 years old so the IRS had to leave it alone.”
Willow looked away sadly, remembering how mean people had been to Cordelia back then. She knew that it was just payback for how the Queen of Sunnydale High had treated her subjects, but it still bothered her.
“I thought I could be an actress. The whole having the world worship me thing was appealing, ya know?” Dumping all the chicken in the saucepan, she laughed as she added some oil. “Turns out I was the only one thinking that I was talented.”
“I’m sure you were…”
“No. It was bad. Even Angel said so, although he was evil at the time, so maybe...” she drifted off dreamily before mentally slapping herself. “No, I sucked.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow offered. The meat was sizzling in the pan and she turned it often to make sure it did not stick or burn.
“Hey, don’t be. I ended up getting a really cool job being a secretary for the broody wonder and, as a bonus, I got sprayed with demon snot every other week.” She dropped in seasonings, stirring some more.
“Oh. Well … good.”
“Yep, see how things work out for the best?”
The half door swung inward revealing one blond vampire. His hair was wild and he scratched his belly as he sauntered into the room, yawning. Willow smiled at him brightly, thinking him the typical male despite his species, and he walked over to her, giving her a quick kiss and a hug while he gazed at Cordy over the witch’s shoulder.
“I missed you last night.”
“Yeah, me too, luv. Angel can be very demanding of my time,” he lied as he pulled away and went to the refrigerator. He passed Cordy along the way, letting his fingers brush along her waist. “Hello, pet.”
“Spike,” she greeted him coolly, still a little angry about how he left her, but knowing she had no right to be. Her eyes were wide open and she knew exactly what Spike was and to whom he was ultimately devoted.
“How are my favorite girls tonight?” He was poking around in the fridge and eventually found what he was looking for with a grin, coming out with a beer and three bags of blood.
“Good. Hungry. We’re cooking dinner, uh o-or breakfast if you’re eating.”
“Spike can’t have any,” Cordy interrupted. "There’s barely enough food for the people who need it … to live.”
“Oh, I’m sure he can have a taste …”
“No, Red. It’s fine. She’s right. 'Sides, I’ll get my fill later.” He gave the brunette a sideways glance before taking a sip of beer and tossing the blood in the microwave. Cordy shifted uncomfortably, angry at her bodies reaction to just about anything he did. She thought about taking Willow aside and telling her, explaining that what she was doing with Spike was purely a food thing and maybe even blame her for suggesting it in the first place. The worse that could happen was … her memory pulled up the file named Tara McClary and tamped down on that desire to purge herself of the guilt. Guilt was fine as long as it came with keeping her skin. These weird thoughts had one nice side affect; her racing heart had slowed some and she chanced a peek at him as he watched the contents in the small oven.
“Are you the designated cook for the undead?” Cordelia asked indicating the three bags.
Shaking his head, he pulled a pout and held up his wrist for them both to see. “Wesley got a little peckish, while I was sleeping.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Angel found Spike he was once again struck by the odd thought that he had entered the Twilight Zone. During the 60’s, that was the one show he enjoyed watching. It was creepy and odd and he felt right at home with the premise.
Today’s episode involved a vampire, bratty and self-centered beyond imagining, that kept being fawned over by seemingly intelligent human woman.
He blinked. Nothing changed.
Spike sat on the counter while Willow went about bandaging his wrist,
despite the fact that it would heal within an hour or two and they
were short on medical supplies. Cordy, for her part, was pouring warmed
blood into a coffee mug.
Everyone turned to him as he entered the room. “Hey Angel, how’s Wesley?” the witch asked. He wanted to pout. Once upon a time she had always asked how he was, but now it was all about Spike and Wesley. That he sounded childish in his own mind only annoyed him more and his ungrateful, attention-stealing offspring would be making this up to him very soon.
The oldest one, an idiot for sure, grinned at him, and Angel was certain he knew that he would be taking a few things out of his hide later … and that the boy was looking forward to it.
“Wesley’s good. I had to knock him out and tie him up …”
“Angel!” Cordy yelled, slapping his arm. “Don’t you hurt him, mister.”
“I’m kidding,” he lied and then felt bad about it. “Mostly.”
“Well, I want to see him soon, just to be sure,” Cordy demanded.
Angel really did not ever know how to deal with his seer so he said, “Okay,” knowing that agreeing would buy him a little time. He was vaguely certain that her seeing Wesley too soon was an especially bad idea.
At that moment, loud screeches and screams poured into the restaurant as little kids came racing by, chasing each other in some game to which only they knew the rules. Both vampires glared at each other, wearing matching expressions of horror and fled almost too fast for Willow or Cordelia to see.
~Part: 34~
The motel itself was small and not as close to the highway as the larger ones that they had passed when coming here. It was chosen for location as much as the small supply of food it offered. Knowing that such accommodations were becoming rare, they had spread out, taking up almost every room that was usable.
With some searching, Ethan found a room that had been trashed in some sort of scuffle and therefore avoided by the more sensitive members of their little band. He was not bothered by such details, wanting privacy above all else for what he planned to do.
He dropped his bag on the mattress and cleared a space large enough for his purposes. Once done, he removed the ingredients and set up. The measuring and mixing of herbs took a while, giving him time to think, which was not necessarily what he wanted to do at the moment. His emotions were unstable already. Thinking of the source could make his magic less reliable. Chaos was never kind, even to his most loyal.
Shifting to sit cross-legged, he lit the lone black candle and used that flame to light the substance in the bowl, setting the candle back down on the far side of the bowl. As the smoke drifted up and into him, he began to chant, a tiny bead of sweat slowly trailing down the side of his face.
He sighed and started again, not really putting more effort into it, but just chanting a bit louder now.
Nothing happened. Ethan frowned and repeated the words, slowly and distinctly, frustrated and more than a little worried.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Ethan jumped, flailing goofily as he scrambled to his feet. “Rupert! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he whispered harshly, bent at the waist with his hands resting on his thighs.
“Failing unfortunately,” Giles replied dryly. “And I asked you what you were doing?” Stooping, he glanced into the bowl. “Summoning something, Ethan?”
“No, well yes. Just a communing spell, Ripper. You recall those, don’t you?”
“Yes and it’s not the point. We’re not to do magic. Not unless we have to. It attracts the demons.”
Ethan began to pace, looking agitated, which was worrying. “What’s wrong?” Giles asked, frowning.
“I was calling on Chaos, normal stuff, just for meditation and inspiration,” he grinned, but Giles did not crack. “Anyway, the bugger is gone.”
“Gone?”
“Gone, yes. There is a void in me, like a hole in my heart.”
“Ha, now there’s a facetious theory.”
“You're one to talk, Ripper. But not even your inappropriately timed attempt at humor will change the fact that Chaos is no longer in the game.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The children were playing in the parking lot under the pale blue light of the rising moon. Spike, who had apparently drawn the short straw, was acting as yard teacher, keeping them in the small area that he had blocked off on one side with the bus and the RV.
He lit a cigarette, thinking about how many packs he had left, when something tugged at his pants leg. He rolled his eyes and glanced down at a small brown haired boy, feigning a smile.
“What?”
“You’re poisoning the ozone, mister.”
“Do what?” Spike frowned, his forehead scrunching up nicely in confusion.
“The ozone. My father said that cigarette smoke poisons the ozone.”
Spike turned the nonplussed frown into a sneer and the blond pulled on the cigarette hard, blowing the smoke out with flair. “What’s your name?”
“Peter.”
“Well, Peter, do you even know what the bloody ozone is?”
“Yes and there’s no blood in it. And you talk funny.”
“Really, I talk funny. I can show you some blood …”
“Spike! Hey!” Amy called out, her hair still wet from the shower, half walking, half trotting up to him. She gave Spike a quick smile before turning to the little one glaring up at them both. “Peter, why don’t you go play with the others? It’s getting late and you guys have to come in soon.”
“Okay, but if we all get skin cancer, it’s his fault.” He turned and ran the short distance to the others, getting in on whatever game they were playing as if he had never left.
“Thanks for watching them.” She was grateful for the alone time, short as it was. Kyle was helpful, but young, and had other things on his mind now that there were other men, older, stronger men, to protect the herd.
“Whatever. Thank me by bullying Angel into it next time.”
Glancing up at him, she caught the small grin and smiled back. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
He offered her a cigarette, but she shook her head. “No doctors. Gotta give up the vices.” Pulling out a bottle of tequila she grinned at him. “Well, not all the vices.”
“Amen to that.”
She took a swig and passed it to him, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater.
“Cheers,” he toasted before knocking it back for a long while. It was half empty when he finished.
She was staring.
“What?”
“Don’t you think you should take it easy?”
“What? Vampire, here.”
She looked embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. I forget sometimes.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Staring off into the distance, he pushed off of the wall and walked over to the kids, ready to round them up and get them inside for baths and bed. Amy pulled on his arm, stopping him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Time for the tots to come inside. The air is weird.”
“The air is weird?” she repeated and he nodded, off again to get them. Snatched by the arm once more, he let her spin him to face her, rolling his eyes in the process. “What is it? I’m not in the Sunnydale Social Club so we can’t be friends?” She wondered if Willow had warned him away from her.
“Noooo, I think something’s wrong and want to get the soddin’ kids inside!”
“Oh.”
“You done?” he asked, glancing at her hand still clutching him.
“Uh huh,” she nodded and let go of his arm.
He ran to the furthest ones and started corralling them toward the building quickly, Amy helping. Scaring them would do no good, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, screaming at him to hurry.
Amy and company had taken three consecutive rooms, each having two older teens and three kids. They rushed toward these, all pouring into Amy’s room for now as Spike brought up the rear. Slamming the door behind him, he pulled the curtain back some and turned off the lights in the room. The kids screamed at being plunged into darkness.
“Shhh,” he consoled them. “It’s all right. Be real quiet and Uncle Spike will find some candy for you when we get out of here.”
The promise of sweets had them shushing each other until it was so noisy that it was all he could hear. “Shut up now, please!” he growled.
The children finally silenced, he went to the window, staring out into the night, demon visage coming to the fore. He still had the eerie feeling, but did not see anything. For him that just meant whatever was out there was better at hiding than most things. He would see it eventually if he watched long enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The vampire is still with them.”
“Just the one?” Milhan whispered.
“Yes.”
“Were you seen?”
Jagal frowned, looking back through the wooded area in the direction of the motel. They were too far away now, but he could not be sure. “I can’t say.”
The demon shifted nervously under Milhan’s steady gaze. The previous night, a hundred miles to the west, Balced, Milhan’s next in command, made a play for leadership, striking with cold malice while they camped under a black, desert sky. That the Grorox was still alive to lead them was a rarity. Usually the usurper was calculating and stunningly accurate, but not this time. It left the clan of demons vaguely in awe.
Milhan saw it as an opportunity to reign unchallenged for a while. The troops would be fearful of failure and the cost. He also decided on planting little deceitful seeds, lies if one wanted to be fussy, implying that he was gifted with visions and he saw Balced’s betrayal only seconds before he acted.
They bought it and the resident top dog smiled slyly as he retreated to his tent, sleep peaceful and uninterrupted.
Jagal started, his musings halting as he realized that Milhan was awaiting a better answer. “I saw the vampire guarding the children and a woman joined him. They spoke and then took the children inside. I don’t know why.”
“Okay. We wait until dawn. They can’t flee then.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do you see anything?” Amy asked, her nerves fluttering around making her skin itch, like when she used to pay visits to the warlock of Sunnydale.
“Yeah and no. Something moved but it could have been a deer or something.” He had been standing there, still as a corpse, for nearly ten minutes. Two of the kids had fallen asleep, but the others watched him with wide eyes. “But it’s gone now.”
She sighed, relieved, but still scared.
His foremost thought was that this was not good; something was still very wrong and it was watching and waiting. What his eyes did not reveal to him, his demon, connected to the evil in this world by an umbilical cord of hatred, sensed. And his demon never lied. There was kindred out there.
“Where is the rest of your crew?” he asked, eyes closed while he focused on the monster in him, blocking out other stimuli.
“In their rooms, I think. They’d better be because I told them no exploring,” she replied, starting to pace while gnawing on her thumbnail.
His sense of hearing sharpened and he felt himself zooming in and out, like he was searching for the right frequency on an AM radio dial. The sounds of people talking, voices hardly familiar to him flood his head, not loud, but overlapping the heartbeats and breathing that came along with them. Splitting them out into layers, he discarded the voices and let the rhythm take hold of him. Hearts pounding, sending a call to something so wild and heinous in him that he pulled out of it quickly, his soul dragging him back to the surface with a gasp.
He blinked, breathing deeply.
Amy was watching him. “What was that?”
He shrugged, still feeling the urge to shred them to pieces, but not willing to share that just yet. “Your friends are two doors down, I think.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I think we should all be closer. We’re spread out too bloody thin.” He frowned, pursing his lips in thought. “Gather the kiddies and what you really need, some blankets and pillows. Gonna move you down.”
Moments later they were barging in on the little snog fest, ignoring the glares from the horny teens. Spike left them and their enticing scents to round up the others.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wesley sat up when Spike came in. He and Angel had been arguing, as usual, over him eating the bagged blood. The new vampire decided at some point that the topic was not worth the effort of him remaining upright and had lain down on the bed, politely ignoring his sire until there was a long enough lag in the lecture and he suspected that it was his turn to speak.
He sniffed the air as Spike walked past him. “You’ve been with the children. Are any sick, dying, in need of draining?” He looked positively hopeful.
Angel rolled his eyes and Spike grinned at him. “Nope. All healthy. Peaches said you could have the ill, pet?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I’ll branch out on my own eventually.”
“Not gonna happen, Wes,” Angel avowed lazily, turning to watch Spike’s back tensing and relaxing as if he was trying not to be affected by something … and losing the battle. “What’s up?”
He was beyond pretending with his sire anymore. At least for this week. “Something, maybe nothing.” He picked up his favorite ax that had somehow made it through the destruction of Sunnydale. Or maybe it was his favorite because it had made it through. “I felt something while I was playing Mr. Roger’s for the brat brigade. Watching us.”
“Human, demom?”
“Oh, definitely demon.” Whatever was out there, this time they would not be caught with their pants around their ankles. He tossed Angel a sword and nodded at Wesley. “Untie him, Angel”
“Why?”
Spike laughed, bitter but melodic just the same. “Debutant Ball’s coming. Time to introduce your boy to society.”
~Part: 35~
Wesley’s eyes sparkled, translucent and deceptively deep like a Hawaiian bay, with the prospect of being free. Angel saw it clearly and was immediately worried. Turning to Spike, he voiced his concerns the only way he knew how.
“No.”
The newest vampire's countenance instantly fell into a pout and Spike clenched his jaw, not in the mood to have a battle of wills with Angel, one that he intended to win.
“Look, Angel,” the blond was about to present his argument and Angel sensed that it would be done in that annoying manner Spike had where he managed to make him feel like a two-year old while calling him an amazingly stupid git. “Something is out there. We need to go find it, maybe kill it, but at least get the skinny on it so we can decide what to do about it,” he counted off on his fingers.
“And we can do that, just not with Wesley,” Angel countered calmly, arms crossed.
“So you what … plan to tie him up to the oh-so-solid bed?” Spike asked, satisfied when Angel frowned and looked away.
Wesley observed them as if at a tennis match and seemed pleased so far with the score.
“Willow could watch him, hold him in a spell.” Angel was becoming desperate.
“No, you git,” Spike said distinctly, “Willow will be watching the entire motel, protecting everyone while we’re out there …” he pointed out the window, “Doing what we do best.”
Angel was certain that Giles or Ethan or even Amy were all capable of keeping Wesley under control, but in no way did he trust any of them, for a variety of reasons, with his childe. Sighing and wondering when he had gotten so protective of this new one, he nodded his agreement, ignoring the vampire’s duplicitous glances at Spike.
Spike gathered his axe again. “I’ll go tell the others. Give you a moment to give him the usual threatening speech.” And then he was gone, leaving Angel scowling.
Wesley waited patiently, his smile pretentious, but engaging nonetheless. Standing, he slithered around his sire, planting a hungry kiss on his lips. Angel allowed it for a moment, pulling away when it got heated.
“One day, you’ll fuck me in their blood, Sire,” he predicted, gazing at him with dark sapphire eyes. Angel cleared his head of the suggestion.
“I don’t have to tell how many ways I’ll hurt you if you go after them, right?” he started, low and growling, setting the fledgling’s cock to hard.
~~~~~~~~~~
Standing outside the door to Willow’s room, he stopped just before going inside. On a whim, Spike changed course and went two doors down, listening for a moment before pushing the door open and slipping in quietly.
It was dark and cool. Spike heard tiny music coming from the bed and noted the headphones on her ears. He considered spooking her, but thought better of a blatant scare, although his presence alone might be enough to make her scream out.
Making an instant decision, he did as his demon wanted, and swooped down on her quickly, his hand clamping over her mouth before she was able to utter a sound, his other hand grabbing her slapping hands by the wrists easily. He had done this a thousand times in his checkered past and it was instinctive and effortless.
Her heart was slamming in her chest and the fear was like incense, drifting through the air, thick and intrusive.
“Shhh, pet. It’s just me,” he whispered, his mouth touching her ear softly as he spoke. He bit lightly with human teeth, smirking a little as her heart began to pound for a different reason. “No screaming, yeah?” he asked, still teasing her ear with his lips.
She bucked and nodded, trying to distract herself from what he was doing by feeding her anger. He removed his hand, massaging her face as she glared at him in the darkened room.
“What is your major mental deficit?” she asked, not bothering to whisper.
He shrugged and sat back. “Knew I’d scare you either way, but didn’t want you screaming bloody murder while I did it.”
She rolled her eyes, sitting up and leaning over to turn on the lamp. “Whatever, Spike. What do you want? I’m sleepy.”
Wanted to see you. “Supposed to be rallying the troops. There’s evil afoot.” His eyes drifted from hers to the tight tanktop she was wearing.
She raised an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Apparently, the bad guys don’t go on holiday,” he replied, staring at her for a moment before kissing her quickly, standing and taking a few steps back. “We’re meeting in Peaches’ room … ten minutes.”
The urge to touch her, kiss her, drain her, had come upon him unexpectedly. Confused, he spun around to leave, but she leaped from the bed, and snatched him by the arm.
“Wait … Spike.” He stopped and turned to face her. “What is this? What do you want from me?” she asked, also wondering what she wanted from him, because his presence was not something she minded at all.
He regarded her for a few seconds until she squirmed under his gaze and he blinked, releasing the tension. “We’ll get this new problem settled and sort this … us … out later, all right?” His hand had found its way to her hair, stroking the length as if a habit. Kissing her temple, he waited for her to agree before pulling away and actually leaving to gather the others.
~~~~~~~~~~~
They filtered in slowly, like rabbits coming to the fox one by one, and Wesley regarded them eagerly from his seat on the bed, somewhat stunned, but ultimately pleased by his lack of connection to all of them. Theoretically, he had a disdain for all humans that bordered on hatred. It was a nice feeling and he was certain that he could hate any particular person quite easily given any motivation. Yet in the back of his mind, he had been considering the possibility that he might have some sort of residual affection for the ones he had known when he was like them … food.
That, apparently, was not the case, and he was relieved. A niggling in him that perhaps Angel’s soul would be catchy would not be quieted, but now he was certain that he was as normal as any other vampire.
Giles and his darker half, his reluctant shadow, Ethan, arrived first, followed quickly by Amy, who smelled wonderfully like menses to the young fledge. Just as he was about to comment and hopefully embarrass the girl, he turned to the door, distracted by something just that much more interesting.
“Cordelia,” he greeted, refraining from wincing as Angel’s grip on his shoulder tightened painfully. “How marvelous it is to see you. I’ve missed our chats and your considerable bosom,” he added eyeing her breasts lasciviously.
She glanced at him, wary but brave, as she marched forward, unconcerned about the bounce and jiggle that had him smiling. “Wes, you’re looking good for a corpse.”
“Yes, it seems death becomes me,” he retorted, eyeing her oddly as Spike’s scent hit him, “And surprisingly, excites you.” Angel’s hold became crushing and he winced. “Ow…”
“Stop it … now,” his sire warned.
Willow and Spike slipped inside at that moment and Angel got started, hating that he somehow was always considered the leader, but unsure if he even remembered how to follow.
“We have a situation.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Darla stomped her tiny foot, the heel of her boot making an indentation in the hard, packed earth.
“But he is over five years old, Angelus. The Master has asked me about him; the rumors of his escapades reach him in the catacombs of Paris as well.
“No.” Angelus shook his head as they walked through the park. The night was clear and dark, the absence of the moon emphasized by the brilliance and abundance of stars. He glanced up, knowing how pleased Drusilla must be.
“But he’s a member of this family and as such should be properly introduced to the Order.”
William the Bloody was becoming quite a name in the demon community, and Darla was determined to take credit if the boy turned out to be something worthy of her consideration, but her own childe was being mulish. The ritual of Aurelius was a big event and Darla would thrive on the attention.
“The Order be damned, Darla. I’ll not parade him around for your batfaced-sire’s appraisal. He’s a perverted one and still holds a grudge against me.” Angelus would not be surprised if the old goat tried to keep William to spite him for taking his Darla.
“Nonsense,” she sighed, but the stinging conviction was gone from
her sharp voice.
The tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, and the present came rushing forward at a dizzying rate. Blinking, he looked to his right to see Spike standing there, glancing at him curiously. It was his patented get-it-together-Cavebrow glare.
Angel nodded, answering the unvoiced concern. Wesley was to his left, staring at everything with a feral grin spreading his lips. The young demon was taking in every scent, sound and sight, scrutinizing and memorizing the details in a manner that was a little odd for a demon, but perfectly normal for one who had been a watcher in a previous life. Nothing escaped his attention.
Watching his glee, Angel felt his age. The 25 years he had been human, his 250 years as a vampire, as well as the 100 years he had spent in a hell dimension, were wearing on him. He did not have that enthusiasm anymore and wondered when exactly had he lost it. He suspected it was when he got the soul, but then Spike bumped his arm as he passed him to walk ahead, scouting the area. The blond was reigned in by the soul to a certain extent, but the balance he managed to maintain with the demon inside him eluded Angel. His childe still had a zest for demonic unlife that his soul had not tarnished in the least. Thus, he concluded that being souled was not necessarily a factor in his lack of passion for unlife, but neither could he eliminate it as the culprit.
He shook his head of his circular ruminations and focused on the real problem. There was something out there. A lot of something in fact. Where Spike, being younger, picked up on demons and intent, Angel was able to discern that as well as something more about their quantity and strength. He estimated that perhaps twenty-five were out there, not amazingly strong as a whole, but there were a few, maybe five, that stood out to him, exuding power.
The vampires had been quiet as they traversed the wooded area behind the motel, Wesley doing very well for his first time out, and Angel was positive that the other demons did not know they were close to their encampment. Spike, always the stealthier one, had gone onward, his mission to get a clear look at them and come back. Wesley waited by his sire in silence, obviously pleased to be outside and in the wild, but also feeling a vague danger to them all that kept him from misbehaving. He smiled to himself, thinking he had time enough for that later. An eternity.
Sooner than Angel had expected, but longer than his patience liked, the blond returned. Angel felt him rather than saw or heard him, but eventually shadows parted to give shape to his lithe presence. The older demon always found that trick remarkable especially with the vampire’s shocking hair color.
Soundlessly, they returned to the motel and the others, slipping inside the room where the others were waiting before saying a word.
~~~~~~~~~~
One of the things she and Spike had managed to salvage from the wreckage at Buffy’s home was a database of demons that Willow and Dawn had put together over the last two years. Taking the disc from the jeweled case, she had a flash of memory, seeing Dawn tossing the case in the air and catching it over and over again while Willow did some research. Buffy had snatched it from mid-air, giving her little sister a reproachful look that was met with a classic eye roll.
With a sigh, she put the disc in the cd-rom drive on the laptop and waited while it loaded the files. The sketches that Angel had drawn from Spike’s description were scattered over the small round table where she was set up to work. In general, it was ugly, but specifically it gave her the creeps. There was so much wrong in this world now and she was having a hard time believing that their little group would ever make a difference, make it right again, or perhaps a new kind of right that worked for everyone left.
“You ready for me?”
She smiled turning to Spike. “I’m always ready for you,” she replied, tilting her head to meet his lips as he leaned down for a kiss. They got lost in it for a moment before she pulled away, laughing as his lips chased hers for a second, and then switching modes and getting down to business before they got too carried away and nothing got done.
Angel had theorized that if there was an attack it would be after the sun rose, thereby taking three of their strongest out of the game. Willow argued that they might be friendly, but even she didn’t really believe it and was making with the big research. If they knew what they were, then they might be able to figure out why they were here.
Settling in, she began going through the entries, clicking the mouse rapidly, knowing that Spike could keep up and that they were short on time.
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